The P-Squad: Danger Zone
by ThePizzadude93
Summary: (Human!AU) When Alex's daughter, Lisa, is threatened by the mob, he hires the P-Squad, a team of mercenaries that consists of four men: Colonel Ross "Skipper" Armstrong, Lieutenant Victor Kowalski, Sergeant Rico Montana, and Private Arthur Lennon. Will they defeat the mob and rescue Lisa? (Inspired by and based on the fan art "The penguins are psychotic." by Pixie-van-Winkle.)
1. Prologue One: The P-Squad

**(Inspired by the hit TV show The A-Team and The Expendables Trilogy.)**

**(Based on The A-Team fanfic by Tron45.)**

**(The following is a non-profit fan-fiction. All rights to The Penguins of Madagascar belong to DreamWorks and Nickelodeon.)**

**Don't forget to read, review, and favorite. :)**

**Hello ladies and gentlemen, I am ThePizzadude93 and welcome all to my first fan-fiction of the Penguins of Madagascar. As you can tell from the summary, this is an AU(Alternate Universe) where the Penguins themselves are humans. **

**Let me be the first to say that this fanfic - as it also says in the summary - is inspired by and based on a very awesome fan art I saw of the human versions of the Penguins on Deviantart. This particular picture is called "The penguins are psychotic." by Pixie-van-Winkle from Deviantart. I loved it so much, I had to right a fanfic based on it. **

**I even modeled the Penguins after them as well. **

**So, I apologize to Pixie-van-Winkle for basing my fic on your fan art without permission. So, I'll be happy to say that I give you full credit for the fanart. Keep up the good work. I'm looking forward to seeing more of your humen renditions of the Penguins. :)**

**And now, ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, sit back, relax, and enjoy The P-Squad: Danger Zone.**

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><p><em>"One way or another we all fight for the things we believe in. Doesn't that give us some common ground?"<em> **- Tom Clancy.**

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><p><strong>- Prologue One -<strong>

**The P-Squad.**

**(Saudi Arabia - 4:35 PM. The Middle-East.)**

He sat in the chair with both his hands tied behind his back and his head hung low. Right now, he was all alone with nothing but a simple light bulb that barely lit the large room he was in. The floor, walls, and the ceiling were all made of old concrete and the room was muggy and almost smelled like old urine. There were a couple torn up middle-eastern tapestries that hung on the walls. One or two flies flew around him, but he didn't pay them any attention. For about five minutes, he was all alone, until the screeching sound of a metal door being opened assaulted his ears. He slowly looked up and saw three men walk inside the room. Two of them had their faces hidden behind black balaclava ski masks and each one held an AK-47 assault rifle. The third one wore no mask and carried no rifle. He appeared to be somewhere between 6.1 to 6.2 feet tall. He also appeared to be in his mid-forties and had a fully grown black beard and mustache. His skin was colored medium-tan - possibly Iranian - and he had dark circles under his eyes. And lastly, he wore a red colored turban. The Iranian glared at the man as he examined him up and down.

The man who sat on the chair in the middle of the room appeared to be in his much late-thirties - thirty-nine to be exact. He had slick black hair that was so combed back, it almost resembled a flattop and he had icy-blue eyes. He had a nicely toned and muscular built as well. He was dressed in an all black t-shirt, a black, lightweight bullet-proof vest, a pair of dark moss-green colored cargo pants, a black belt with a silver buckle wrapped around his waist, and black military boots. And also, he was barely covered in bruises and a small drop of blood dripped from the far left side of his lip. The man made a cocky smirk at the Iranian who stood before him.

"Miss me already, Sadik?" he said. The response he got was a hard backhand to the face.

"Unless you want to have your tongue removed," Sadik snarled, in a husky middle-eastern accent. "I suggest you watch your words and be careful what you say, American!" After groaning in pain a little bit, the man in the chair spat some blood onto the floor and looked up at the Iranian man with a smirk and a glare.

"My apologies." he hissed. "I'll be sure to behave myself next time." After that, Sadik grabbed another chair that was located at a far corner of the room and place it in front of the man. And then, he sat down on the chair and glared at the American. Sadik then reached into his pants pocket and placed a photo of a middle-aged man in front of the American to see.

"Alright." he began. "Let us try this again. Where are you hiding this man?" The American sneered at the Iranian terrorist.

"I told you before and I will tell you again!" he responded. "I don't know." Sadik shook his head and then stood up from his chair.

"Stand him up!" he commanded. The two guards walked up and grabbed the American on each arm and forced him to his black booted feet. Sadik suddenly threw a hard punch at the man's face. The American clenched his teeth hard. It was like getting hit by a solid brick. Then again, every punch does. Sadik then grabbed the man by the hair and forced him to look at the Iranian terrorist.

"I will ask you again!" he snarled. "Where are you hiding him? We know that it was you who helped him escape, Colonel Ross Armstrong! We saw the security footage! Did you tell him to hide somewhere? If you did, where is his location?! Where is he hiding?!" The man made a death glare at Sadik.

"Okay, pal! First off, call me Skipper!" he growled through clenched teeth. "And second, I don't know where he went! Even if I did know, I most certainly wouldn't tell you!"

Sadik's dark eyes narrowed at Skipper. Suddenly, the Iranian kneed him in the stomach, causing Skipper to heave out all of the air in his lungs and then cough. After that, Sadik once again grabbed him by the hair and forced him to look eye-to-eye with the Iranian.

"You can save yourself a lot of pain if you just tell us, American." he said. "We can do this the easy way or the hard way if you wish. I promise to make it easy for you, only if you give us the information we need." Skipper glared darkly and responded by spitting a blotch of blood at Sadik's face, which splattered on his forehead.

"Go screw yourself!" Skipper hissed. Sadik glowered at him as he slowly wiped the blood from his face.

"I see." he spoke darkly and dangerously. "The hard way it is then." Sadik then turned away, placed the photo away, and then reached into the left side of his pocket. He turned back to face Skipper and pulled out what looked like a piece of metal. Skipper knew what it was, for it was a pair of bronze colored brass knuckles. Sadik placed the brass knuckles through his right fingers and smiled sadistically at the Col.

"This will only hurt for a few seconds." he announced. He then grabbed Skipper by the left shoulder and prepared to give him the most absolutely worse kind of pain possible. But, before he could land a good punch, the metal door suddenly swung open and in came another guard who ran towards Sadik.

"Sir, we have a problem!" he said frantically and in between heavy breaths. Sadik turned to him.

"What is it!" he asked.

"We are being attacked!" Within a split second, a loud explosion was heard outside, and the distant sounds of gunfire filled the air.

"What do you think it is?" the guard asked. Sadik turned back to Skipper and glared.

"No doubt a rescue attempt!" he growled, before placing his brass knuckles back into his pocket and then turning back to the guard. "Make sure that they do not get through!" The third guard nodded and sped out the door. Sadik turned to the other two guards who held the Col.

"And you two! Make sure the prisoner doesn't leave this room!" he ordered. "I will deal with you later, Colonel!" Skipper made a big smirk and just before Sadik left, the thirty-nine year old Colonel spoke.

"You really have no idea what your up against, do you, Sadik?" he said. Sadik stopped for a moment and slowly turned around to face Skipper.

"What do you mean by that?" he asked suspiciously.

"That rescue party that's coming to rescue my sorry hide?" Skipper continued. "That is no ordinary rescue party. What you're about to tango with is the greatest team of soldiers you'll ever come across. They're the best of the best, and you should have every single right to fear them.

"The first is one of the most brilliant strategists you'll ever meet. Not only that, but he is also an outstanding scientist, inventor, and an expert gadgeteer who can build and create the most deadliest of weapons you've ever laid eyes on. Weapons that could slice you in half or turn you into ashes within seconds.

"The second may appear to be nothing more but a young Private, but trust me when I say this, he can karate chop a watermelon in two with just his bare hands.

"And the third one? Oh, best stay clear of him if I were you, Sadik, for he is described as a world class psychopath. He is an explosions nut and the team's best weapons specialist. If he catches you in his sights, you better run for the hills, 'cause he will stop at nothing until you are dead by his hands. He is the deadliest, and it is him you should fear the most.

"And lastly, the fourth one. The leader of this team. He is described as a man filled with unapologetic warrior might. He will show no mercy to the enemy and he will stop at nothing to get what he wants.

"And so, with all of those four men put together, they are one lethal team that cannot be stopped. And if you think that your boys can hold them off, you are sadly mistaken. They are determined men, and they will do whatever it takes to fulfill their mission, even in the face of death."

It was here that Sadik slowly began to feel a tinge of nervousness. After hearing Skipper's description, he then bolted quickly out the metal door shouting through the empty hallway, "To not let them pass! Do not let them get through, no matter what!" Skipper shook his head at this and continued to smirk.

"You can try as you might, Sadik!" he shouted towards the fleeing Iranian. "It won't do you any good!" Just about a few seconds after saying that, a loud hissing sound echoed from a distance and a big booming sound rumbled the room. Skipper cocked his head at this.

_Was that an RPG rocket launcher I just heard?_ he thought. _That sounded way too close. That has to be Rico. _Before he could continue being in his thoughts, one of the guards spoke to the other.

"Malik, can you go and shut the door, please?" he asked. Malik nodded and walked over to shut the metal door. Skipper smirked as this happened. Good. Just the way he wanted it. Within a quick flash, Skipper head butted the guard from behind really hard on the nose, causing him to fall back and yelp in pain. Malik whipped around and before he could get the chance to pull the trigger of his AK-47 within a split second, Skipper quickly dashed forward and rammed his head into Malik's gut with all his might. Both men fell to the ground, but Skipper quickly got to his feet - despite having both hands tied behind his back - and kicked Malik in the face, knocking him out as a result. Skipper heard a noise, turned around and saw that the guard from earlier was staggering back up. The Colonel quickly ran towards him and kneed the guard in the face, knocking him out as well like Malik. Both guards were now on the ground and Skipper was the only one standing. Skipper then turned to a wooden table that was located at the left side of the room and walked over to it. There, he spotted a large dagger with a double-sided, seven inch long, razor-sharp blade and what laid next to it was a silver Desert Eagle Mark XIX assault pistol. Skipper went for the knife and grabbed it with his teeth.

_Gotta time this right._ he thought to himself. With great swiftness, he threw the knife into the air. He quickly turned around held out the small rope that bounded his hand together. And then, SHINCK. The sharp end of the blade sliced through the ropes and the rope loosened.

_Free at last._

After freeing himself, Skipper then went over and grabbed both of the guards' AK-47's. One slung around his back while the other was held in his black, fingerless gloved hands. After that, he turned his direction over to the metal door and his face glowered.

_I need to get my gear._

But before he could get the chance to walk out the door, the door was kicked open and in came a tall man that held an M16A1 assault rifle in his hands. The sound of the door being kicked startled Skipper for a moment and aimed his AK-47 at the man, but quickly stopped himself from pulling the trigger once he recognized him.

The man was about 6.5 feet tall - which made him about seven inches taller than Skipper, who was 5.10 - and appeared to be thirty-eight years old. He was dressed in a pair of cargo pants and a long-sleeved, button up cargo shirt which were both colored dark moss-green. And also, the cargo shirt had four pockets; two on the upper chest and two on the thighs. Just like Skipper, the tall man also wore a black belt with a silver buckle wrapped around his waist. His black hair was slick and was combed back with a small widow's peak, and he too had icy-blue eyes. As mentioned earlier, he held an M16A1 assault rifle in his black, fingerless gloved hands. What slung on his left shoulder, he held a brown duffle bag. And lastly, the tall man wore a pair of black military boots that went up to his upper shins and they both had one row of five boot buckles on each side.

Skipper then let out a sigh of relief and walked over to the tall man.

"Kowalski, its you." he began. "Be careful next time, will ya? I could've killed you right on the spot." Lieutenant Victor Kowalski straightened himself and gave a soldier's salute.

"My apologies, Skipper." he said. "Did not mean to startle you all of a sudden."

"Where's Rico and Artie?"

"They're both a-okay, sir. You can thank the U.S. Army for that. Now, lets get you out of here and capture Sadik before he escapes… Oh, I almost forgot." Kowalski then knelt down, placed the brown duffle bag on the ground, and unzipped it for Skipper to see.

"I also took the liberty of retrieving your confiscated gear." Skipper smirked at this as he went through the duffle bag and pulled out two belt slide gun holsters connected to a black belt that had a silver metal snap-fit buckle. He then found twin customized Colt M1911A1 handguns, a Fairbairn–Sykes fighting knife with a double sided seven inch blade, a few handgun magazines, a walkie-talkie, and a couple hand grenades. Skipper wasted no time and equipped all of these items on himself; strapping the belt around his waist, fastening the holsters around his thighs, loading his guns and then placing them in their holsters, and then stuffing away two of the hand grenades; one in each pocket. After all of that, Skipper stood straight up and loaded the two AK-47's he still had. After that, he turned to Kowalski.

"Alright then." he began. "Lets get to work." And so, Skipper and Lieutenant Kowalski ran out of the room and then through the concrete hallways. Soon, after traversing through a few corridors, the two came across a wooden green door and they both snuck towards it. Kowalski slowly and carefully opened the door by a few inches and peeked out to make sure that the coast was clear. After making a thorough search, Kowalski nodded to Skipper and they both walked through. They had now walked right into what appeared to be a large warehouse, that smelled of body odor and motor oil. Suddenly, they heard a door creak open and the sound of a toilet being flushed. Both men turned to the noise that came from above and saw that a guard had walked out of the bathroom with a satisfied look on his face. Right when the guard saw the two, it was already too late, for Skipper had shot him in the forehead with the AK-47.

"Good aim, Skipper." Kowalski complimented. Skipper nodded at the Lieutenant.

"Let's keep moving." Skipper said. "Someone might've heard that shot."

"Affirmative." Skipper then reached for his walkie-talkie, tuned it to the right frequency, and spoke.

"Hello? Anyone there?" he spoke. "Can anybody read me? Over." For a moment there was nothing, but then, a voice suddenly blurted from the walkie-talkie.

"Read you loud and clear, Skipper. Over." the voice said in a mildly high pitch, middle-class British accent. Skipper smirked upon hearing this.

"After four days and four nights of imprisonment," he said, "it is good to hear your voice, Private. Over." Private Arthur Lennon chuckled and spoke again through the walkie-talkie.

"Thanks, Skipper. Its good to hear yours as well. Over."

"Can you put me through to Rico? Over."

"Aye Aye, sir. Over." After about a moment of silence, Private Lennon's voice was replaced with a different one. One that sounded a bit gruff and almost gravelly.

"Rico speaking!" the voice said. "Glad to know that your still among the living, boss! Over!"

"What's your po-"

"Wait, hold that thought for a moment! Over!…." For a split second, Skipper heard nothing but silence until,

Bang! Bang! Bang!

"Eat lead, you terrorist meat-sacks!…" Sergeant Rico Montana screamed in the background of the walkie-talkie. "Sorry, boss! You were saying? Over!"

"What's your position? Over."

"Me and Artie are near your's, thanks to the tracking device we hid deep inside the heel of your left boot! Over!" Skipper raised an eyebrow and looked down at his left boot.

"There's a tracking device inside my left boot?" he asked.

"Precisely!" Rico responded. Skipper then turned to Kowalski, who only smirked in response. The Colonel knew that it had to be Kowalski. Who else could create such a small tracking device like that without him knowing? Well, obviously Kowalski.

"Kowalski, how in Hoover Dam did you manage to keep that a secret?" he asked.

"Its me, remember?" the Lieutenant answered, still smirking. For a moment of silence, a big grin grew across Skipper's face.

"Once again, you've managed to amaze me, Kowalski." he complimented. "I'd probably go as far as to say that I'm proud to have you part of the team." Lieutenant Kowalski felt sheepish for a moment.

"Why, thank you, sir." he said. "I appreciate the compliment." Suddenly, Rico spoke again through the walk-talkie, which caught both men's attention.

"Uh, guys, I don't mean to interrupt your little bromance moment," he said. "but we're about to head your way in 3...2...1!" Upon hearing the short countdown, Skipper and Kowalski quickly leapt to the side as suddenly, something large burst through the wooden wall of the warehouse.

The two men saw what appeared to be a first generation Chevrolet Express van that was dressed in strong, handcrafted armor plating on the sides and a large sharply pointed, metal battering ram was positioned on the front of the van. On both the left side and right side of the van, each had a big picture of a penguin holding a switchblade. After a couple minutes of stillness and awkward silence, the left and right van doors swung open and out came two men.

Sergeant Rico Montana stood to be about 6.0 feet tall, which made him five inches shorter than Kowalski, and he appeared to be in his mid-thirties. He appeared to look a bit gruff and was slightly more muscular looking than Skipper. His slick black hair was combed in the style of a fauxhawk and he had icy-blue eyes like Skipper and Kowalski. The only difference was that if you looked deep into them, you would find a hint of a deranged passion for violence and destruction. A large scar protruded from the right side corner of his lips and the scar descended further down to the right side of his chin. He was dressed exactly like Skipper; a black sleeveless t-shirt, a black, lightweight, bullet-proof vest, black military boots, black fingerless gloves, and a pair of dark moss-green colored cargo pants. However, the difference was that Rico was much more battle ready than Skipper and the others; three sticks of dynamite were strapped to the side of his right leg, a six inch dagger was strapped to the right side of his boot, another dagger strapped to the left side of his hip, four hand grenades were strapped around his belt - two on each side, and four M1911 handguns around his body - two on his lower back and two near the back of his upper shoulders. What Rico held in his hands was a freshly loaded M4A1 Carbine assault rifle. And lastly, he had a lit cigarette that dangled between his lips.

Private Arthur Lennon was about 5.6 feet tall and he appeared to be twenty-six years old with a youthful face. He had short black hair that was somewhat feathery and had icy-blue eyes like the other three men. He was dressed in a pair of cargo pants and cargo shirt that were both colored dark moss-green. However, the only difference was that were as Kowalski's cargo shirt was long-sleeved, Private Lennon's was short-sleeved and had only two pockets located on his upper chest. He also wore black military boots and black fingerless gloves. What hung on his right thigh was a single M1911 handgun that was nicely snug inside a single, black leather gun holster.

Skipper smiled as he saw them and was the first to speak.

"You certainly know how to make a dramatic entrance, Rico." he said. A smile creased across Rico's face.

"What can I say?" he answered. "Its what I do." After that, Colonal Ross "Skipper" Armstrong, Lieutenant Victor Kowalski, Sergeant Rico Montana, and Private Arthur Lennon climbed back inside the van and shut the doors. Skipper sat in the front passenger seat, Kowalski took the wheel, and Rico and Private Lennon sat in the back.

"Alright, boys!" Skipper began. "Lets lock 'n load and find Sadik before he escapes! Lets show him what we're made of!"

"Hoorah!" everyone shouted. And so, Kowalski slammed his foot on the peddle, causing the van's tires to screech and then the van raced straight through the warehouse. Far in front of them was a large double door that suddenly swung open and in came ten guards holding AK-47's and blocked the exit.

"Don't stop, Kowalski!" Skipper exclaimed. "Keep driving and do not slow down!" With that, Kowalski nodded and pushed the peddle further, causing the van to go faster. The sound of gunshots filled the air and bullets flew toward the van that sped towards the exit. Seeing as their AK-47's weren't doing any good - since the van was covered in handcrafted bullet proof armor, the guards quickly leapt out of the way as the van drove past them and drove outside the warehouse building. They were now outside in the middle of what appeared to be an abandoned Saudi Arabian village that was now crawling with terrorists and U.S. Army soldiers battling each other. As the van sped through the street and barely destroyed buildings, they came across a roofless Willys MB Army jeep that sped a few feet ahead of them.

Skipper squinted his eyes and immediately recognized the man sitting in the driver seat.

It was Sadik.

"Kowalski! Get close to that Jeep as much as you can!" he commanded. "I'm gonna try and jump onto the back!"

"Aye Aye, Skipper!" Kowalski said. But then, he noticed something from his rearview mirror that made his eyes slightly widen.

"Uh, sir?" he began. "We've got company!" Skipper looked out the car window and saw that they were being chased by three other Jeeps, being driven by armed men. Skipper reared his head back inside the van and then turned his gaze to the back.

"Rico! We've got three bogies behind us! Set up the M60 and get rid of them!" the Colonel commanded. Rico nodded and a psychotic looking grin spread across his face.

"Roger that, boss!" he responded. With that, Rico grabbed a fully loaded M60 machine gun by the side and then climbed up through the sunroof above the van. Rico placed the M60 machine gun on top of the van, removed the safety, and prepared to shoot.

"Alright, ladies!" he shouted. "Say hello to my little friend!" And so, Rico pulled the trigger and open fired on the three Jeeps. What followed seconds later were the howls of insane laughter that escaped a trigger happy Rico's lips.

"Yeah!" he screamed. "Come get some, you terrorist dirt bags!" Bullets pilfered the first Jeep's left tire, causing the vehicle to swerve out of control and then crash into a nearby wall. While Rico was busy having the time of his life, Kowalski pushed hard on the peddle, trying to make the van go faster. Skipper quickly opened the van door and waited for the right moment.

_Gotta make this jump count!_

Before Skipper could get the chance to leap, the sound of gunshots filled the air. Sadik held in his hand a Beretta 92FS handgun. He then aimed the gun at Skipper and fired a few rounds, but missed each time. Skipper responded by pulling out one of his Colt M1911A1's and aimed the gun at the terrorist leader. With precise and excellent aim, the Colonel fired a single bullet, and the bullet pierced through Sadik's hand, causing the terrorist leader to drop his gun and scream in pain. While that was going on, Skipper quickly placed his own gun back into its holster and readied himself to jump.

And finally, the thirty-nine year old Colonel used every muscle in his strong legs and made a great leap, landing safely in the back of the Jeep. Before Sadik could do anything, Skipper climbed towards the passenger seat shouting, "Pull over!" When Sadik didn't comply, Skipper started to wrestle with the Iranian terrorist leader for control of the steering wheel. When that failed, Skipper grabbed Sadik's shirt collar and once again pulled out his customized Colt and aimed the gun at the Iranian's right temple.

"I said pull over!" he commanded again with a snarl. Out of fear of being shot in the head, Sadik did what he was told and slowly pushed his foot down on the breaks until the Jeep finally came to a slow stop, along with the van that gave chase. One by one, Kowalski, Rico, and Private Lennon walked out of the van and towards the two men. The two other Jeeps were nowhere to be seen, thanks to Rico.

"Out of the Jeep, Sadik!" Skipper commanded. "Nice and slow!" Sadik nervously nodded his head and walked out of the Jeep and towards the three other men, who aimed their own weapons at him. Sadik raised a confused eyebrow.

"Wait, you said that there were four men." he said. "I see only three. Where is the fourth?" Skipper responded by walking in front of the Iranian and smirked.

"Your looking at him." he answered. Sadik's eyes widened and his mouth almost fell agape.

"You?!" Skipper nodded his head.

"I told you we were the best!" he said. "Private Lennon! The cuffs if you please." Private Lennon nodded his head and walked over to give his commanding officer a pair of handcuffs and then Skipper snapped the cuffs onto both of Sadik's wrists.

"Now get in the van!" he commanded. "And don't even think about trying to escape either!" Sadik walked carefully towards the van but stopped for a moment and then turned around to face the four men.

"Just who are you?" he asked. Skipper stood straight, a big smirk spreading across his face and then he spoke in a voice filled with confidence.

"We are…the P-Squad!"

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><p><strong>Well folks, I hope you enjoyed the first part of the Prologue.<strong>

**You may have already noticed that I gave Rico a voice. I just thought it would be cool if he had one. But if he did, it probably wouldn't sound like his voice actor John DiMaggio. I imagined he would instead have the voice of Steven Blum, the voice of Tank Dempsey from the Call of Duty zombie maps. **

**Remember, I modeled Rico after the one in the fan art "The penguins are psychotic" by Pixie-van-Winkle. I wanted to give him a voice that matched the Rico from the fan art. Oh, and you might have also noticed that I turned them into mercenaries. Well, as it says in the above description, I was inspired by The A-Team, the TV show which the 2010 movie was based on and the Expendables Trilogy starring Sylvester Stallone.**

**So anyway, I hope you all enjoyed the fic so far and I'll be back with Prologue Two really soon. Until then, just smile and ways, boys. Smile and wave. ^_^**


	2. Prologue Two: Celebration and the Call

**(Inspired by the hit TV show The A-Team and The Expendables Trilogy.)**

**(Based on The A-Team fanfic by Tron45.)**

**(The following is a non-profit fan-fiction. All rights to The Penguins of Madagascar belong to DreamWorks and Nickelodeon.)**

**Don't forget to read, review, and favorite. :)**

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><p><strong>- Prologue Two -<strong>

**Celebration and the Call.**

**(Three days later…)**

**(New York City, New York. 8:46 PM. Patty's Bar & Grill. United States of America.)**

Skipper sat on a chair in front of a medium sized, circular-shaped table where Kowalski, Rico, and Arthur were also seated as well. He saw that Kowalski was seated next to his left, having a plate of Shepherd's Pie, Arthur sat from across the table, eating a plate of the same thing, and Rico was seated next to Skipper's right, munching down on a cheeseburger. Skipper himself had a plate of a well seasoned, medium rare steak. The Colonel watched as the three men socialized, talked, and laughed about good times and previous missions that they had done in the last few years. Skipper smiled at this scenery. For four and a half years, they had traveled around the globe, living as soldiers for hire, helping the innocent and fighting the wicked. Yes, those were good times. And they swore that they would continue living for the rest of their lives as this band of mercenaries, this P-Squad. He couldn't ask for a finer team in all the world. And so, Skipper stood from his chair and cleared his throat, gaining the three's attention.

"Boys?" he began. "I would like to make a toast to another successful mission." He then grabbed his own beer bottle and held it up.

"A toast to getting out alive, capturing the villain, and putting him in prison where he will spend the rest of his life in. A toast to having the finest team in the whole entire world. A toast to all four of us, Kowalski, Rico, Arthur, and myself. A toast to the P-Squad." And with that, the four men raised their own beer bottles - or in Arthur's case, tea - saluted, drank, and sat back down on their chairs. A few seconds later, Arthur suddenly spoke.

"Hey, Skipper." the young Private began. "Why don't you sing us a victory song like you use to do?" Upon hearing those words, Skipper made a sheepish smirk and shook his head.

"Nah, I couldn't." he protested.

"Oh, come on, boss!" Rico joined in. "Why not just this once?"

"Yes. Why not, Skipper?" Lieutenant Kowalski joined as well. "Sadik has been defeated and is now locked up in prison, we've freed all the hostages, got paid in full, and returned home in one piece. Surly there is more to celebrating a successful mission besides having a well cooked meal and an ice cold drink? And since we're in an Irish bar, why not sing us an Irish song to go with it? Something classic. Something traditional." As much as Skipper wanted to say no, he found himself realizing that he just couldn't say it. How could he say no to singing a victory song after succeeding in a life threatening mission? And so, Skipper sighed and shook his head again with a smirk.

"Alright, you bozos, you win." he said in defeat. Kowalski, Rico, and Arthur smiled and watched as Skipper once again stood up from his chair, cleared his throat, and began to sing. It was a song that they were all very familiar with and as Skipper sang half of the first verse, Rico started to sing along too, and so did Arthur, and then Kowalski. Soon, they all found themselves singing almost loud enough for the entire bar to hear. Not one person in the bar was bothered by this, aside from the fact that they were in an Irish bar, and they all began to clap to the beat of the song.

_In Banbridge Town near the County Down_  
><em>One morning last July,<em>  
><em>Down a boreen green came a sweet colleen,<em>  
><em>And she smiled as she passed me by.<em>  
><em>She looked so sweet, from her two bare feet<em>  
><em>To the sheen of her nut-brown hair.<em>  
><em>Such a coaxing elf, sure I shook myself<em>  
><em>For to see I was really there.<em>

_From Bantry Bay down to Derry Quay,_  
><em>And from Galway to Dublin Town,<em>  
><em>No maid I've seen like the brown colleen<em>  
><em>That I met in the County Down.<em>

_As she onward sped, sure I scratched my head,_  
><em>And I looked with a feeling rare.<em>  
><em>And I says, says I, to a passer-by,<em>  
><em>"Who's the maid with the nut-brown hair?"<em>  
><em>He smiled at me, and he said, says he,<em>  
><em>"She's the gem of Ireland's crown,<em>  
><em>Young Rosie McCann from the banks of the Bann,<em>  
><em>She's the Star of the County Down."<em>

_From Bantry Bay down to Derry Quay,_  
><em>And from Galway to Dublin Town,<em>  
><em>No maid I've seen like the brown colleen<em>  
><em>That I met in the County Down.<em>

_I've traveled a bit but was never hit_  
><em>Since my roving career began.<em>  
><em>But fair and square, I surrendered there<em>  
><em>To the charms of Rose McCann.<em>  
><em>I'd a heart to let, and no tenant yet<em>  
><em>Had I met in a shawl or gown.<em>  
><em>But in she went, and I asked no rent<em>  
><em>From the Star of the County Down.<em>

_From Bantry Bay down to Derry Quay,_  
><em>And from Galway to Dublin Town,<em>  
><em>No maid I've seen like the brown colleen<em>  
><em>That I met in the County Down.<em>

_At the harvest fair, she'll be surely there,_  
><em>So I'll dress in my Sunday clothes,<em>  
><em>With my shoes shone bright and my hat cocked right<em>  
><em>For a smile from my nut-brown rose.<em>  
><em>No pipe I'll smoke, no horse I'll yoke,<em>  
><em>'Til my plough is a rust-colored brown,<em>  
><em>'Til a smiling bride by my own fireside<em>  
><em>Sits the Star of the County Down.<em>

_From Bantry Bay down to Derry Quay,_  
><em>And from Galway to Dublin Town,<em>  
><em>No maid I've seen like the brown colleen<em>  
><em>That I met in the County Down.<em>

_From Bantry Bay down to Derry Quay,_  
><em>And from Galway to Dublin Town,<em>  
><em>No maid I've seen like the brown colleen<em>  
><em>That I met in the County Down.<em>

At the end of the last verse, everyone in the bar started clapping and cheering at the four men. Some shouted "Encore" while others shouted "Bravo." Skipper, Kowalski, Rico, and Arthur felt flattered by this and they all bowed their heads. They then heard a light-hearted laugh come from the front door and they turned to the direction of the laugh. They saw a man dressed in an expensive-looking suit stand near the front door of the pub, clapping his hands slowly and made again that light-hearted laugh. The man was tall, but not as tall as Kowalski. He stood to be 5.11 feet tall, which was an inch taller than Skipper. He appeared to be around thirty-six to thirty-seven years old, had big ears almost like a chimp's, and he had short dark-brown hair with sideburns and dark-brown eyes. The suit he wore was colored dark-grey with a vest and a red necktie. The man continued to stand by the front door of the pub and clap slowly. He then smirked.

"Yes. Bravo indeed." he said, in a somewhat upper-class British accent. "I must say, Ross. Who knew that you and your boys could sing so amazingly well." Skipper smirked too and then crossed both his arms.

"Well well, what do we have here?" he said. "If it isn't our good friend, Mason Lambert. To what do we owe this little visit, Monkey-Ears?" Mason's smirk immediately turned into a frown. Lord, how he hated that name. All because his ears were almost big as a chimpanzee's. That was something Mason did not like at all.

"For the last time, never call me that again, Ross." Mason warned. "You know how much I hate that name."

"Aw, but its fun." Skipper playfully whined.

"Maybe for you, but not for me." The four men chuckled in amusement. It was here that Skipper then noticed something.

"Wait a moment. Where's Phil?" he asked. Mason straightened his red tie and suit jacket.

"I'm afraid he called in sick today." he answered. "He said he was feeling a bit under the weather lately."

"Yo, Mase!" Rico called suddenly. "Be sure to tell Monkey-Ears Jr. that we said hi!" At hearing that, they all suddenly burst into fits of laughter except Mason who still stood with an annoyed look on his face.

"Yes!" he spoke with irritation. "I'll be sure to tell him that." After everyone calmed down, Skipper sat back down on his chair and Mason walked on over to their table.

"Seriously though, Mason." Skipper began. "What brings you here? Come to congratulate us for another successful mission?" Mason sighed slightly.

"Sorry about this, but no, Ross." he answered. "I'm afraid your little celebration will have to be cut short." Skipper creased an eyebrow and Kowalski, Rico, and Arthur gave out confused looks.

"What does that mean?" Skipper asked. Mason reached into his coat pocket underneath and pulled out what appeared to be a small envelope and then handed it over to Skipper.

"An interesting letter arrived in my mail this morning." he explained. "It instructed me to deliver it to you at once upon arrival." Skipper grabbed the envelope from Mason and read the front of it that read,

_To Mason Lambert. Give this letter to the P-Squad at once when you get it. This is an emergency!_

With that, Skipper opened the envelope with a butter-knife, pulled out what looked like a folded up letter and read what was written on it out loud for Mason, Kowalski, Rico, and Arthur to hear.

_To the P-Squad,_

_I have heard quite a lot about you guys and how you travel around the world and help those that are in need. I've also heard of what you are capable of. And so, it is here that I am desperately in need of your help. I wish that I could tell you now what my problem is in this letter, but I feel that it would be better if we discuss the issue in person. I heard that there is this man named Mason Lambert and that he is connected to you, so I sent this letter to him first in order to reach you guys. Again, I wish I could have told you about my situation in this letter, but again, I feel that we should discuss it face-to-face, in person. Please, it is very urgent that you answer my plea for help and I cannot find anyone that will help me. If its payment you want in return, I will give you exactly $500.000 and more for your services. Please, be sure to write me back as soon as you can at the following address on the front of the envelope._

_From, Alakay Barnes._

After finishing the letter, Skipper's brow furrowed and then looked up at Mason.

"Well, its obviously clear that someone is asking for your help, Ross." Mason said. "Best not to ignore it if it truly is an emergency. Now, what do you think our response should be, Ross? What should I say to him?" For a moment, Skipper stroke his chin and pondered about the issue. He then looked on over to his teammates, who were waiting for an answer from him. After about twelve seconds of thinking, a large smirk laced around Skipper's face and he turned back to Mason.

"Tell Mr. Barnes to go to Mr. Ping's Laundry in Chinatown, Manhattan." Skipper instructed. "There, he will meet the owner of said laundry, Mr. Ping himself. He is to follow these instructions tomorrow afternoon at 3:00 PM." After that, Mason bowed his head.

"I shall see to it that it is done, Colonel." he said. And so, Mason turned around, walked out of the bar, and into the streets of the Big Apple. Skipper then turned back to his teammates.

"Get ready, boys!" he spoke. "Because tomorrow morning, we've got a job to do!" Lieutenant Victor Kowalski, Sergeant Rico Montana, and Private Arthur Lennon nodded their heads.

"Aye aye, Skipper!" they said in unison. After that, the four continued on with their celebration, finished their food and drinks, paid for the meal, and went off to get ready for tomorrow's big day.

* * *

><p><strong>Well, I hope you've all enjoyed the second part of the Prologue. :)<strong>

**Oh, and before you all get uptight and go "No, you can't put a song up here in FanFiction. That's against the rules. You'll be taken down if you don't get rid of it!", let me explain that the song Skipper sang is an old Irish ballad. Star of the County Down is an OLD song that possibly dates back before the 1800's. I've seen other artists make covers of the song many times. For example; the Serbian band Orthodox Celts did a cover of it, and Celtic Thunder did their own cover of the song too. And lets not forget about Loreena McKennitt as well.**

**You can also here the song around certain taverns in the video game, Assassin's Creed 4: Black Flag.(Which is a very fun game, mind you!) **

**So, I think that everyone is allowed to post an old Irish song on FanFiction. Just not songs that are strictly owned by certain artists like Breaking Benjamin, Skillet, Disturbed, Drowning Pool, Rammstein, Three Days Grace, ect.**

**Well, I hope what I just said covers the issue. Until then, this is ThePizzadude93 saying, "Cute and cuddly, boys! Cute and cuddly."**


	3. Chapter One: Mr Ping & Mr Barnes

**(Inspired by the hit TV show The A-Team and The Expendables Trilogy.)**

**(The following is a non-profit fan-fiction. All rights to The Penguins of Madagascar belong to DreamWorks and Nickelodeon.)**

**Don't forget to read, review, and favorite. :)**

**Its time for a very fun game called "Spot the Reference." If you happen to have spotted it, let me know in one of your reviews. And now folks, enjoy. :)**

* * *

><p><strong>- Chapter One -<strong>

**Mr. Ping & Mr. Barnes.**

**(The next day…)**

**(Chinatown, Manhattan. 3:00 PM. United States of America.)**

Mr. Alakay Barnes walked the streets of Chinatown, Manhattan with a small slip of paper in his left hand. He was dressed in an all dark-blue suit with a red necktie. He appeared to be 5' 7" feet tall and also appeared to be in his late forties. His hair was colored dark brunette with small hints of grey around them. He looked at his wristwatch and his eyes nearly bulged.

_3:00. I'm late._

It was here that he became a little bit desperate and walked up to a random Chinese stranger.

"Excuse me, sir." he began, getting the man's attention. "Can you point me to the direction of Mr. Ping's Laundry?" The stranger smiled kindly and pointed him to the direction.

"Mr. Ping's is just up ahead, mister." the man said, in a mild Chinese accent. "You cannot miss it." Alakay nodded and thanked the man, and continued to walk towards the direction of the Laundry. As trekked through the sidewalk, he spotted some Chinese stores and small restaurants to his right as he past by. Stores and small restaurants like, Lee's Noodles, The Dragon's Pawn Shop, Wang's Deli, Lang's Parlor Store, Shen's Garden, Mr. Ping's Laund-

_Ah-ha!_

Alakay smiled at this, but then frowned. For a brief moment, he felt a tad nervous, nervous 'cause of what he was about to get himself into. What if this was a mistake? What if these guys were no good at all? Alakay immediately shook his head. No! Now was not the time to be doubting. And so, with a big inhale and exhale, Alakay placed his hand on the glass door and pushed it open, entering inside the Laundry. The place smell of both bleach and detergent. To Alakay's left, there were many washing and drying machines lined in a row. What he saw straight in front of him was an elderly Chinese man standing behind a counter dressed in a tang suit made of high quality fabric. The man's dark-grey hair was long and was in the form of a ponytail that trailed down near his lower back. The old man appeared to be in his early eighties and was about 5.10 feet tall. The old man bowed his head at Alakay and smiled kindly.

"Hello there." he said in a Chinese accent. "Welcome to Mr. Ping's Laundry. How may I help you today?" Alakay walked up to the man and spoke in a voice that indicated that he was under a lot of stress.

"Are you Mr. Ping himself?" he asked. The old man nodded.

"Yes, I am he." Mr. Ping answered. "And to whom am I speaking too?"

"I apologize for being late." he said. "My name is Alakay Barnes. But, I don't mind if you just call me Alex." Mr. Ping perked up upon hearing this.

"Ah yes," he spoke. "Mr. Mason Lambert told me someone by that name was coming." After nodding at the words, Alex came closer to the counter and spoke again.

"Yes!" he said. "He told me that I had to come here to hire… well, have you heard of a certain group known as the P-Squad?" Mr. Ping nodded speedily at Alex.

"Oh, yes. Very much." he explained. "They're the very reason why I'm still here and why my place still stands. It was barely a year ago, some young thugs kept on trying to run me out of town. I demanded that they leave me alone, but they refused to listen. I knew that I needed help so bad. And that's when I contacted the P-Squad through Mr. Lambert. And thanks to them, the young hooligans never bothered me again.

"But, if your going to hire folks such as the P-Squad, it will require a lot of money. So, how much do you got?"

"I can get as much of the money as they need." Alex replied, with a voice that still sounded uneasy but had a bit more confidence. "I just need to know how to get to them!" Mr. Ping nodded at Alex and leaned forward a bit towards the man as if he was about to whisper some kind of secret.

"Bring at least $500.000 to the warehouse on 11th and Bleecker Street tonight at 9:00PM. The P-Squad will meet you there." Alex smiled a bit and nodded at the Chinese man.

"Thank you very much, Mr. Ping." he said. "I appreciate your help." Mr. Ping smiled big and shook the man's hand.

"It is no problem at all." he spoke. And so, Alex said goodbye, turned around, walked out of the building, and back into the streets of Chinatown.

* * *

><p><strong>(Later in the evening…)<strong>

**(New York City, New York. 11th and Bleeker Street. 8:59 PM. United States of America.)**

The night air brushed against Alex's hair and face as he stood in front of the door that led inside the warehouse. What he wore around his shoulder was a large, nylon duffle bag that was colored jet-black. Alex then looked at his wristwatch and saw that it had just turned 9:00 PM.

_Right on time._

After exhaling a heavy breath, he lifted his hand up and knocked on the door in front of him. After a few second of silence, a voice called out from the other side.

"The door is unlocked!" the voice said. "You can come in!" And just like that, Alex grabbed the doorknob, turned it, and slowly pulled it open. As he carefully walked inside the warehouse, all he saw was darkness, nothing but black. He could not see a thing and it was like staring into an empty abyss of a shadowy void. What happened next was the smell of motor oil and body odor assaulted his nostrils but it wasn't too strong. As he walked slowly further into the dark void, he made sure to mind his footing and feel for anything incase he might trop or hit something by accident.

"Private Lennon!" the voice from earlier commanded. "Switch on the lights!" After about a few seconds, the lights suddenly flickered on and Alex finally saw his surroundings. As Alex looked around, he saw many shelves littered with guns, rifles, machine guns, submachine guns, a couple rocket launchers here and there, ammo magazines, and almost every other shooting weapon you could think of. Then, Alex's eyes fell upon what appeared to be four men who stood far in front of him in a straight line and what rested behind them was a first generation Chevrolet Express van that was colored dark-green and it had a picture of a penguin holding a switchblade with its two flippers. The four men were dressed as if they were ready to go to war. The two on the right were dressed in black t-shirts, black bulletproof vests, black fingerless gloves, dark moss-green cargo pants, and black military boots while the two on the left were dressed in dark moss-green colored cargo pants and shirts and also wore black military boots as well. One of them took three steps towards Alex, stopped, and then crossed his strong looking arms. The man wore a pair of sunglasses that had shiny silver lenses and a single toothpick hung on the right side of his lips. From what Alex could tell was that he must be the leader.

"Are you guys, by any chance, the P-Squad?" he spoke carefully, after swallowing a nervous lump that was stuck inside his own throat.

"That depends on who's asking." the leader spoke with a serious frown and a voice that sounded commanding.

"My name is Alakay Barnes." Alex introduced himself. The leader then smiled at the man and spoke again.

"Ah yes, Mason Lambert told us about you." he said. "Said that you wanted to hire us. A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Barnes. Now, before we get straight to business, allow me to be the one to introduce you to my team." He then pointed to the tall one who stood with his fists resting on his hips.

"This here is my second-in-command, Lieutenant Victor Kowalski." the leader introduced. "He is the team's strategist, inventor, medic, and world class gadgeteer." Kowalski nodded his head at Alex.

"A pleaser meeting you, Mr. Barnes." he said. The leader then pointed to what appeared to be a young man in his early twenties who stood next to Kowalski. The young man immediately gave a soldier's salute and smiled brightly.

"That is Private Arthur Lennon." the leader said. "Don't let his young and naïve appearance fool you. That kid can chop a watermelon in half with just his two bare hands and he can crack and decipher codes faster than you can reload a Colt Single Action Army revolver."

"Reporting for duty, sir." he spoke in a middle-class British accent. And then, the leader pointed to the third member who appeared almost quite gruff and he held in two of his hands a fully loaded M16A1 assault rifle. He also had a large scar that protruded downward past both the left sides of his upper and lower lip and his black hair was in the style of a fauxhawk.

"This is Sergeant Rico Montana." the leader introduced. "The team's demolitions expert, explosions/weapon specialist, and also the team's third-in-command." Rico suddenly cocked his rifle and aimed it at Alex, who's eyes widened in fear and his legs suddenly felt like jelly. Rico then made a psychotic looking grin.

"You gotta ask yourself one thing." he spoke in a gruff sounding voice. "Are you feelin' lucky, punk?"

"Easy there, Clint Eastwood." the leader warned. Rico then snorted and chuckled.

"I'm just kidding, boss." he said. "Just wanted to show off is all." Alex sighed with relief. For a moment there, he actually thought that Rico had just lost his marbles.

"And lastly, I am Colonel Ross Armstrong." the leader introduced himself. "But to my allies and enemies, they know me by the name of Skipper."

"Um, nice to meet you, Colonel." Alex said, shaking Skipper's hand.

"Now that the introductions are out of the way," Skipper spoke. "care to follow me and the boys?" After that, Alex nodded his head and followed the four men towards a large rectangular shaped table that stood a few feet away from the van. Lieutenant Kowalski, Sergeant Rico, and Private Lennon stood behind Skipper, who took a seat behind the table and beckoned Alex to sit on the other side. After watching Alex take a seat on the other side of the table, Skipper cleared his throat, straightened his back, and crossed his arms again.

"So, what seems to be the issue, Mr. Barnes?" the Colonel asked. "What kind of trouble do you seem to be in?" Alex then straightened himself and tried to speak clearly.

"Two years ago, I witnessed a bank robbery." Alex began. "I pinpointed the police to the criminal's location and sent him to prison at Riker's Island. Now, he's applying for parole and I've been asked to testify against him again in four days." Skipper continued to listen to Alex's words.

"So what's the problem?" he urged. Alex then made a heavy sigh.

"I recently discovered that the robber is a member of the Mafia, more specifically, the Andolini family." Alex continued. "And to make it even worse is that they've kidnapped my daughter, Lisa." Skipper suddenly perked up at hearing that last part.

"They're threatening to kill her if I testify, but I want to do the right thing. Under normal circumstances, I might do it. But, Lisa is all I have left. Her mother died when she was only six years old. Please, Colonel. I don't want to lose her too." After that, Alex lifted the black duffle bag from his shoulder and placed it on the table for the four men to see. Skipper grabbed the bag, pulled it towards himself and began to unzip it open.

"There is $500,000 in that bag." Alex explained. "I will give you guys another $500.000 when the job is done. I got a huge reward for getting that robber behind bars. Please, Colonel, just get my daughter out of there. I want to testify against that creep without fear of Lisa's life."

"And do you know the location of your daughter's whereabouts?" Skipper asked with a raised eyebrow. Alex's head hung almost low.

"I'm afraid not." he said. "They never told me where she's being held. But, I do believe that one of the members of the Andolini's might. You see, I asked this good friend of mine named Marty to try and tail one of the members down. He told me that there is this man named Frank, who has strong connections with the family. He told me that everyday, Frank would hang out at a place called Julian's Coconut Club, which is about a few blocks away from here. Its quite possible that he knows about Lisa's location. Well, that's pretty much all I have to say. So how 'bout it, Skipper. Will you help me?" Skipper leaned back in his chair and stroke his chin in thought. For a moment of hard thinking, a big smirk laced around his lips and he turned around to face the three of his teammates.

"Get the van ready, boys!" he ordered. "We've got a hostage to save!" Kowalski, Rico, and Arthur saluted Skipper in response.

"Aye aye, sir!" they said in unison. And so, the three went off and loaded the van with many weapons as much as they could. Skipper then turned back to Alex and continued to smirk. He then held out his hand and Alex shook it greatly.

"Congratulations, Mr. Barnes." Skipper spoke. "You just hired the P-Squad."


End file.
